Of Pillows And Marshmallows
by Simlead
Summary: 'They're on leave. He's bored. She's intent on working. It never was a good combination...' A little fluff piece set after SG-1 finishes but before Season 3/4 of Atlantis. Incredibly minor spoilers. I own nothing, but wish I did. ;) Rated T, and dedicated to my insane friend Lois4Kent. It's all your fault. XD *The current cover has two versions, the other is duller*


**A/N: I promised Lois4Kent (and I dedicate this to her amazing craziness) that I'd renovate this little piece and post it, so here I am. I can't remember all the conversation - but it ended with me saying I'd upload this. Some of it is _pure_, _unabridged fluff _(or, rather, was intended to be), so those of you who aren't friends of the fluffiness might want to sit this one out. But if you're a fan - enjoy! I dropped in some mischief and humour. Sadly, I own nothing. That's why I'm here.**

* * *

"You coming, Carter?" Sam looked up from the object she was examining beneath the microscope to see Jack leant against the doorway, dressed in a button-down shirt and a faded pair of black jeans. She held a hand up as if to say 'one moment'. He chuckled at her habit and wandered over to her jacket where it laid over her bags. Scooping it up, he draped it over her shoulders, holding it tightly in place over her biceps. "Can't escape me now. Come on, it'll still be here when we get back."

"Jack..." she shot him his _own _trademark 'puppy eyes' - she'd definitely been spending too much time around 'Jack', rather than 'Sir'. "Please, _Sir_."

"Stop with the 'Sir', Carter," he groaned. The change in their relationship had perhaps been most confusing when it came to their 'naming system'. Who called their boyfriend 'sir'? Beyond their trivial troubles, the relationship had turned each and every inch of the SGC into glass - one slight move and the entire base would come crashing down upon you. Murmurs of disapproval and whispers of scandal could be heard at every turn. Regardless, they'd pulled each other through.

"If you'll stop with the 'Carter'," she began, pulling him back to reality as she stepped into his personal space, "I'll stop with the 'Sir'. Deal?"

"Err, sure," he managed through the assault on his senses. Her scent drifted up his nostrils despite his internal protest, and her hand's feather-light touches weren't helping as they sent miniscule waves of electricity through his nervous system. By the spark in her eye, Jack could see that Sam knew exactly how he felt. "When are you done playing with the 'toys', then?"

"Just about...now," she slung a cover over the objects in front of her and produced a key. Jack frowned, taking several seconds to realise its purpose. "I don't want anyone interfering with this project, Jack. Normally, I'd be flattered that someone had taken the time to make improvements and advancements on my work. But this is too important, I don't want some junior scientist messing it all up."

"Okay," he nodded slowly. "Come on, we've got a whole week of fishing, ice cream and martinis ahead of us."

"Well, how can I refuse?" Sam headed over to him, linking their arms. Jack just smiled. He knew the answer to that rhetorical - she couldn't deny him if she tried.

* * *

The Airforce General realised just how tired the two had been as they stumbled into bed the previous night, cold air chilling their bones, when rays of light bombarded them through the uncurtained window.

"Ow," he hissed, shielding his eyes with one hand and shifting beneath the covers. Shimmering blonde hair splashed across the pillow beside him - it brought a steady smile to his face. Sucking in a breath, he leaned over and allowed his lips to hover over the soft, pale flesh of his girlfriend's ear. A moment later, she had jumped a mile at the ice-cold force of breath behind her ear. "Morning, Sunshine."

"Jack!" she yelped. Her hand rested on her chest as rose rapidly and fell again. Gradually, she let out a light giggle. "Morning to you too. I'd say 'good', but meet your version of air conditioning isn't my idea of a nice wake-up call."

"Air conditioning? Are you sure you didn't hit your head on the headboard?" he shot her a half-amused look. She just shrugged. With their prompt collapse earlier, every inch of clothing on the couple (except their shoes, funnily enough) was intact. More or less. Jack's t-shirt was crumpled into the next century and Sam's trousers were looking more like shorts every second Jack stared at them.

_No complaint here_, he grinned inwardly. Then that grin morphed into a slight frown when he saw his companion leave the bed and head for the wardrobe. Jack had a theory; _she's going to try to put in some extra time at the SGC. I'll give her three days, and she'll crack, I bet._

_"_Hey, where's my jacket? It has my keys in," she turned around, clutching a pale blue shirt on a hanger.

"Ah... Why do you need them?" he crossed his arms. She shot him a challenging glower that said 'bad idea'. Sighing, he said, "coat rack. Or somewhere near it."

As she left the room, cogs turned in Jack's head. He'd never considered himself a control freak, and never wanted to be, but he'd come damn close in his efforts to get her to stick around. Regardless of his conscience, he had one fiery blonde with a method of escape - one he had to deal with.

_Next stop, Sam's car..._

* * *

Jack's eyes darted up and down, taking in the scene. If he was going to do this, he had to do it and do it quickly. The consequences of Sam discovering his plot could only be described with one word - disastrous. He scrambled over to the car and pulled the tools from his pocket. Reaching beneath the giant machine known as his girlfriend's car, he began to rob it of its ability to roll.

"That's it..." he grinned and slid away. Just then, footsteps carried over to him on the wind.

"Jack?" called the probing, female voice. "Is that you?"

"No, it's...Homer Simpson," he mused. Sam turned the corner and approached him, gaze sweeping over his body.

"What's with the dirty hands?" Jack had to bite his lip to avoid the guilty look that wanted to leap forth onto his face in that moment. He rubbed his hands against the material of his freshly changed clothes with the hope that the black stains, that stuck out like a sore thumb, would cease to exist after a wash or two.

"Oh, err, nothing. Up to something?" he pretended to peer round to see what she was holding, knowing full well what it was.

"I'm just popping out, that's all. Just bagged some things I need."

"Okay, be back soon," he nodded, before retreating inside the cabin and tucking himself behind the curtain of the window. Sam stood for a moment, almost fooled.

"That was easy," she said, clambering into the car. She turned the key, hearing the feeble splutter and cough of the engine. "Too easy."

"Don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me," he uttered under his breath. Alongside him, the curtain almost fluttered in relief when Sam grumbled and vacated the vehicle. Who knew a bit of leave could bring one so close to a relationship apocalypse?

* * *

Sam was confused, to say the least. she'd spent the better part of two days trying to _subtly _escape the house to do a little research, yet _something _seemed determined to keep her there. Whatever force it was had emptied her entire fuel tank when there wasn't any more for miles, split the soles on her running shoes, punctured the wheel of her bike and made the neighbours convenient departure only a day before their own arrival. For all intents and purposes, she was up a creek without a paddle. And Jack was getting shifty(er) by the hour. So, as they sat on the deck with tubs of jelly and marshmallows (that Jack had, ironically, arranged into the shapes of chevrons) she broke the question.

"Alright, what is it?" Yes, that was _the_ question, indeed. Jack's attention refocused and he raised both eyebrows.

"That's the first symbol in Earth's dialing sequence. _Sure _you didn't hit your head?"

"Not the marshmallows! You!" she exclaimed, then took a deep breath to continue when she saw his confusion. "You're hiding some. I mean, come on, you've made it obvious you don't want me to leave. _Why?_"

"And there goes Plan A," Jack mumbled. Preparing for the denial, the scowl and the departure, he sank to one knee. Sam's heart stopped. Time slowed. Neither of them heard her sharp intake of breath as the universe distorted. "Samantha Carter, will you marry me?"

"I... I... I," she paused, and their eyes met with a unique, beautiful understanding. He knew what she was going to say before she did. "Yes."

"You mean it?" the message came as a shock to his addled brain. She nodded her confirmation. With a glint in his eye, he pulled her into an embrace that could rival Teal'c's bone-crushing hugs. "Can I kiss you now?" he asked, when she pulled back.

"Nope," her lips curved upwards in a wicked smile. She reached over to the tubs and sifted around inside, picking out a marshmallow and scraping some of it away with her nail. Then, she balanced it between her lips. "There. Now, you can kiss me."

"Wow," Jack breathed and dove into the kiss. She tasted sweet - of raspberry - and her kiss was soft and gentle, but her lips demanded more of him with every moment that passed. He could lose himself in the depth, drown himself in the spectacular close-up of her blue eyes. The sensations ended all too soon... However, it was then that he noticed the shape of the marshmallow. And did a double take. It was a heart. So, no shame was felt while his swelled, as he slipped the ring neatly onto his fiancé's finger.

_If this is what happens when we eat marshmallows, _he thought, _I need more of those. Lots more._

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**A/N: How was it? Please review if you have something to say. :) Though, no flaming. Keep the fluffy mood. :P**


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